


A Wish your Heart Makes

by FilipinoMestiza



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Afternoon Tea, Awkwardness, Blind Date, Blindfolds, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Humor, Light Dom/sub, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn With Plot, Victorian era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-21 00:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6031407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FilipinoMestiza/pseuds/FilipinoMestiza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bee and Moirin are just a couple of Rook girls who set themselves up for a social engagement with unnamed gentlemen. (Actually, it was all Bee's idea.)</p><p>To make things even more exciting, they decided to make a bet on their respective dates. (This was definitely the worst idea Bee has ever made.)</p><p>However, they did not expect to see familiar faces, nor were they expecting to survive long enough to change into their evening wear. (Bee should definitely be tied up and thrown into the Thames for this.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Afternoon Tea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morie91](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morie91/gifts).



Was there a possible way for someone to die from excess chagrin? Moirin believed it true. Earlier that morning, she had gone to collect her payment from her buyers, and threatened those who refused to hand over a full price, giving them an allowance of two weeks lest they wanted the Rooks to breathe down on their necks every single hour. She then hurried her way back to the train hideout to calculate the money she had in her threadbare purse. For a strange and eerie while, everything seemed peaceful whilst the locomotive scuttled toward the Strand, where it stopped to pick up any gang member along for the free ride. She stacked the paper bills and placed them on her left side; she began to count some of her coins when she perceived a loud thud coming from behind.

“Moirin!” the brash voice of her young companion rang throughout the miniature parlour. “I finally have response letters from last week’s advertisement!”

Bee was a complicated little thing that often saw the good in everyone until it was proven or tested for psychological trauma. She was also rather a small girl, regardless of her age, and was not hesitant to point that out. As for her hobbies, she liked attracting stray cats into their back yard, chasing after their boss, Mr. Jacob Frye, to get a reaction from him, and putting up unlikely advertisements on the Wednesday newspaper. This time, however, Bee actually received replies from the gentlemen who wish to partake in her jovial yet lunatic company.

Moirin could only hum her remark and continued to create silver towers on the card table. However, her friend would not have any of that. Bee waved the two envelopes under her nose and patiently waited for her answer. At last, the Irish lass looked up from her work, with a glare so penetrating, it could have burned a hole right through Bee’s head.

“Letters, Moirin! The tickets to a possible marriage!” the young woman exclaimed.

“Or special passes to a troublesome evening.” Moirin grumbled, having lost the number she had paused at.

Bee huffed. “Well, if do not wish to take your letter, then it is fine by me!”

“I say, my hearing must be failing me: I have a corresponding letter?” Moirin dropped her shillings in surprise.

“Mm-hmm, indeed.” With a flourish, Bee took out a torn article from her olive jacket and handed the piece over to her frustrated friend. Moirin snatched the clipping and read the tabloid in such furious haste.

“Bee!”

“Moirin!”

“How could you do this? You know how anxious I am whenever I’m adjacent to a person of the opposite sex!”

“Well, I believe this is the finest remedy to cure that odd disorder of yours! And moreover, I read both of them to guarantee its originality, and they are, in fact, actual requests and not another damn hoax from Nigel Bumble or the Little Rooks!”

Moirin stumbled on her words before grabbing the two letters from Bee. “ But, these men! They wrote down the same exact dates to meet us! At the same exact time!”

“And yet, they’re on different locations, see?” Bee pointed out on the messages and gave off her infamous cat-ate-the-canary grin. “ Of course, I’ll be choosing the fine gentleman who offered to converge at the Coburg Hotel for Afternoon Tea. Then, if we are fond of each other, we will meet again at the Covent Garden to watch a performance!”

“I shouldn’t be surprised, will there be fornication on the timetable as well?” Moirin said and waved to their private barkeep for some ale and champagne.

“No, in fact, this is only time I will be a proper lady! I am not going to lust after the man like he was some piece of delicacy.” Bee declared.

“Tell that to poor Mr. Bell.” Her friend mumbled quietly.

“And who knows? The possibilities are quite endless! Oh, Moi, if he turns out to be the man after my own mischievous heart, I’d marry him instantenously!” The young woman sighed dreamily.

“Let’s see if you can repeat those words once you’re buried six feet beneath my boots.” Moirin murmured in a flat tone, turning to nod at the man in thanks when her preferred drink was served.

Bee stared hard at her friend and began to formulate a plan. She gradually began to smile, leaning back to wait for the expected reaction: in a few seconds, Moirin attention shifted back to hers, and she was finally caught her in the trap. “Well, if I can manage to resist my notorious primal urges for the sake of a good evening, then let’s see if you can survive the entire time with your respective gentleman.”

“I am not going on that date.” Moirin insisted.

“Wait, here is my wager: I will give you complete management of the apartment for fourteen days, if you manage to kiss the fellow before midnight.” Bee grinned widely.

“And where will you sleep?” Moirin had to ask.

“With Aleck, probably. Anyway, think about it: you get to have blissful silence without my nagging voice bouncing off the walls every minute, and you can paint in peace!”

The Irish lass contemplated the wager, and she replied with a wicked grin of her own. “Well then, here is mine: at the end of the night, you need to remove all pretenses and attack your gentleman once he escorts you home.”

“What?! How am I to achieve the perfect romantic relationship if I assault him sexually?” Bee exclaimed.

Moirin grinned into her pint. “You did not let me finish: if you manage to go through it without performing the Walk of Shame, then I’ll paint portraits of your favorite men, naked and in throes of passion.”

A heavy silence hung in the air between the two girls. “Deal!”

As the two girls wrestled about in the parlour, Evie Frye strode inside, tugging down the heavy hood off her head. She looked to Moirin and Bee, who instantly stopped fighting once they saw one of their leaders standing there by the open doorway.

“Should I be concerned?” Evie inquired them.

“No, Miss Frye! We’re merely celebrating because we received a response from that advertisement I placed the other week! See?” Bee handed over the letters, to which the female Assassin inspected them both for any misleading messages. Her eyes widened for a fraction for a second, and then returned the envelopes back to the cheerful little woman.

“Congratulations are in order, then. Bee, I know you’re well-versed in the art of formal courtship, so it shouldn’t be difficult for you.” The Rook girl’s eyes glistened at the praise, but it quickly dimmed when she realized something was wrong.

“I forgot, we do not know anyone who will do our hair; we do not even have gowns to—”

“You still have that gown you pilfered from that Frenchwoman, Madame-Something.” Moirin interjected.

“Oh, right. Then, that leaves you, Moi.” Bee said, somewhat concerned.

Evie smiled at them both. It was good to have a change of pace within the Rooks’ ranks; most of the female gang members had long abandoned the idea of being a proper lady ever since they willingly followed her brother against the Blighters and Templar agents. She crossed her arms and watched as Bee and Moirin bickered over what sort of dress the latter should wear for her clandestine tryst.

“I think I can assist you both.” Evie said the minute their argument turned into a fist fight.

Bee, who was raising a clenched fist above Moirin’s head, perked up at the statement. “Oh, thank you, Miss Frye!”

“I will contact Mrs. Disraeli tomorrow morning, then we will have to see what we can do about Moirin’s etiquette.” At that mention, the said girl huffed and frowned deeply. “Right, we definitely need her help.” 

The very next day, Bee and Moirin found themselves seated in one of the parlour rooms of the famous Mary Anne Disraeli. The older woman was pratically enthusiastic upon hearing the request made by Evie, and had welcomed her guests with much eagerness. She told that, while many a gentleman preferred a stable and independent young woman, there are instances where applicable manners would win the hearts of many.

“Bee, I want you to have this should you take a promenade around the park.” Evie said and handed the young Rook a black lace parasol.

“Oh, I’ve always wanted one of these!” Bee said, testing her newfound accessory.

“Twist the handle right there.” Evie instructed her. She did as she was told, and there was an audible click. Bee let out a coo of happiness when she pulled out a long narrow dagger from the wooden pole. She looked to her Boss with a wide grin. “In case your suitor turns out to be a right arse.” 

“Thank you, Miss Frye! Now, if you’ll excuse me everyone, I have a day dress to pilfer from one of the upper-class ladies! Thankfully, we’re already in Westminster.” Bee waved farewell to them and went out to steal the necessary clothes for her engagement.

“Miss Frye, I don’t think I can do this.” Evie turned toward the Irish girl sitting on the upholstered settee and smiled down at her.

“And what makes you say that, Moirin?” Her Boss asked as she took the empty seat.

“Well, Bee knows what she is doing. How can I match up to her sprightly confidence when I can hardly talk to the other Rooks without panicking?” Moirin said sadly.

Evie contemplated her remark before saying, “Yes, I agree that Bee is much more at ease with her current lifestyle, but you mustn’t forget: she plunges into her matters head first, and that is where you come alone to help her realize that. Now, regarding this little mess she has created, think of it as an approach to gratitude, for all the things you have done and supported without an afterthought. Bee wants you to be happy, and happy you will be by the end of this.”

Moirin looked at her hands for a second, before lifting her head to look at Mrs. Disraeli. “All right, Madame, I am ready.”

 

Three days later...

Bee hummed an old lullaby as she fixed her curls in front of a pub window. She had put on a creamy gold ensemble embellished with black lace and buttons. Her straw bonnet had a similarly colored ribbon wrapped around its body while artificial flowers decorated the rim of it. She was in the process of on black velvet gloves when someone came up from behind. Bee readied her deadly parasol and turned around, only to see that it was none other than Moirin: she looked absolutely stunning in her pale lavender day dress that was bedecked in tassles and fringes. Her bright brown hair had been braided and pulled back into a twist, with ribbons of violet and pink festooned upon her head.

“Oh my word! Is that you Moirin?!” Bee exclaimed.

Moirin smiled at her friend, and then said, “Who else could it be?” The two young women laughed, then hugged, and began to fuss over the process of putting on a dress.

“I swear to the heavens, Nigel wanted his teeth knocked out.” Bee rolled her eyes at the memory of that Bumble wanting to help her tie her corset. She paid her gratitude to Clara, who had closed the door on the boy’s face when he tried to take a peek.

“Fortunately for me, I had the help of Mrs. Disraeli. However, I must commend the attire you have chosen for this event, my dear Bee. So, tell me, from who did you steal?”

“Ah, some poor young lass by the surname of Steele. She had quite the taste in clothing, but her Persian cat needed to reduce a little. It was rather portly, in my opinion.” Bee and Moirin shared what they call a ‘Rich Man’s Guffaw’ as they fanned themselves with their custom-made hand held fans.

Before long, the hour struck, and the lady Rooks called for their individual growlers. They wished each other the best of luck on their Afternoon Tea, and mounted their rides to go on their exciting excursion. Bee let out a sigh as she leaned back on the leather seats of the seemingly brand new growler she was fortunate enough to pick. Perhaps it was a clear sign that her suitor was, indeed, a well-to-do fellow, with a fine job, good reputation, and a handsome visage that is worthy to be praised.

The growler stopped at the written location, and Bee paid him a pound for his good work. She entered the hotel with her heart making its way up to her throat. Glancing around the vast reception hall, she was then approached by one of the many attentive receptionists, and was inquired of her attendance.

“Um, I am supposed to meet someone in the Tea Room? My name is Bibianna Oddey.” Bee said to the appointed worker.

“Miss Oddey?” a white-gloved butler then came up to her. “Ah, right. Please follow me, my Master has been expecting you.” 

Bee trailed after the stoic-looking individual and entered a whole new world of affluence and prosperity. Along the way, the nervous young woman removed her straw bonnet, hoping that her appearance would not put off her mysterious sender. They stopped at the very end of the wide hall, where lofty glass windows seemed to radiate light instead of letting it into the hotel itself. A gentleman sat at a lone table, his back facing toward them.

“Sir,” the servant addressed the soon-to-be introduced fellow. “Miss Oddey has arrived.”

The man simply waved a hand and the butler was dismissed. Bee braced herself as her suitor stood up and slowly turned around: she suddenly felt all of her blood draining away from her face when she recognized who the anonymous suitor was.

“Miss Oddey, I am rather pleased that you have arrived on scheduled time,” his cultured tone flew over to her and wrapped an invisible hand around her neck. “And while this is slightly improper for a lady of your standards, I would like to formally introduce myself: I am Crawford Starrick, owner and sole proprietor of Starrick Industries.”

A few miles across the boroughs, Moirin could feel some sort of apprehension crawl up her very spine. She looked about the cozy tea room, where she was assigned to meet her own anonymous suitor. The table she had chosen was placed in the very middle of the establishment, where she can be seen from all various angles. Heaving a monotonous sigh, she fiddled with the fringes on her sleeve until a new arrival entered the place:

He was tall and regal, with a Grecian-like face and a head full of curly dark blonde hair. The man scanned the room for a moment, and then his piercing grey eyes settled on hers. Moirin blushed a deep crimson as the young gentleman started to walk toward her table, only to amble past her and sat down beside a much older-looking woman at the back hall. She silently cursed herself for believing it to be true. When the doors opened again to allow another patron inside, she regretted her decision not to glance up, for a gentleman in an attractive yellow waistcoat and olive green cravat came up to her with a huff.

“I’m sorry, my lady, for my tardiness! I was, um, struggling to find a good carriage, yes!” Moirin slowly looked up and her eyes widened in pure shock: standing before her was none other than her Boss, Jacob Frye.

Jacob let out a relieved sigh when she had nothing to remark about in terms of lethargy. In truth, he had been caught by several Blighters during his drive, and he had no choice but to flee the area, for fear that Evie would scold him if he’d ruin the attire she bought. He carelessly pulled out his chair; the legs of which dragged across the hardwood floors, and plopped himself down on the cushioned seat. He then whistled loudly for a servant to entertain them.

“Oh, right! I’m Jacob Frye, a pleasure to meet you, Miss...?” His look of worriment was amusing, if Moirin herself was not frozen in place. She then understood that her Boss couldn’t recognize her due to the lack of a bowler hat and the iconic green jacket.

In her anxiety, she stuttered out, “I’m Cecily! Yes, I think, I’m Cecily...Hunts.”

For a few minutes, the couple stared vacantly at their hands, even when the table had been arranged with an array of baked goods, two ceramic teacups with hand painted vines, and a medium-sized lime green teapot with steaming hot jasmine tea. Jacob cleared his throat and straightened his posture. Moirin sat upright in attention like the Rook she was, and she saw him looking away to quietly chuckle into the back of his hand.

She made herself small within her chair and went to pick up the teapot to start pouring the hot beverage for both of them. “So, uhh, Mr. Frye, do you have any particular activities you like to do?” she inquired him, despite knowing what he really does in the shadow of the night.

“Oh,” Jacob blinked and noisily sipped on his tea, much to the displeasure of the clients. “Well, I like...fox hunting. And I do like strolling the gardens of my estate on horseback. Yes. Actually, I have a horse! Well, of course, you need a horse for those sorts! Ahahaha! But, what I’m trying to say is that I have a horse, and his name is Freddy.”

Moirin did her best to stifle her laughter. “Does this mean you like to mount Freddy and ride him into exhaustion?” her comment made a few people spat out their tea.

Jacob himself turned ruddy at the slightly witty remark. He forced out a cough and took another loud sip of his drink. “I say, this tea is really good here, don’t you think?”

She could only smile and nod at his aversion.

 

Bee, however, could not do the same as her fortunate companion. The butler from before, Oliver was his name, had courteously taken away her bonnet and trustworthy lace parasol, and right now she was defenseless in the likes of Crawford Starrick. The said man was preapring himself for the annual Afternoon Tea while his servant was pouring the tea into their solid white cups that had a shiny golden brim.

“I will be honest you, Miss Oddey,” Starrick began. “I find your prolonged silence quite concerning, to say the least. Is there something you wish to say?”

Bee shifted her gaze downwards to her lap. “Forgive me, Mr. Starrick. I am simply struck with awe upon realizing that it was you who responded to my article. I did not expect this engagement to ever occur in my life.” She said in the most honest tone she could gather, and waited for his reply.

Crawford merely hummed and allowed his butler to continue doing his chore. “I cannot say that I am not flattered by your sincerity, Miss Oddey. Very few women rarely do convey honesty when they are in the presence of those whom they wish to impress.”

“And are you impressed, Mr. Starrick?” Bee curiously asked him.

“We shall see by the end of this event.” The pair quietly sipped on their tea and basked in the much needed quietude to rally up whatever topic that needs to be discussed.

The Rook girl pursed her lips, hands slightly trembling as she held her expensive teacup. “So, Mr. Starrick, do you often answer to the advertisements on the newspaper?”

“Not quite. I select only those who rouse my interests, and while your choices in hobbies are odd for a young woman such as yourself, I find that I am piqued for some reason.” Starrick explained before continuing, “you must have had the patience of a sailor’s wife to anticipate every elusive stray cat.”

Bee blushed a little. “Yes, well, it has taught me a very good lesson in tolerance. Besides, if one is aiming for a prize, they would have to be willing to endure.” She was expecting him to mock her favored pasttime, because, truthfully, who in the world would have time to lure dirty, disease-carrying felines into their home?

“And what is it that you do when one strolls in?” Crawford inquired. A server took this moment to stand between them in order to hand out the lovely pastries on a tiered stand.

“Oh!” Bee sat up straight when she realized that he was into the conversation. “I, umm, I record them into what I call my Catbook. Sometimes I note the specific fur pattern so as not to forget them when they visit again. I have collected at least thirty-six cats by now.”

“Splendid.”

She could feel that he was pretending to be entertained by her explanation, but in reality he looked rather skeptical. The Rook girl gripped her teacup hard: she will do what she can to make sure Starrick did not know of her association to the Rooks, and, importantly, to Evie and Jacob Frye. With a look of determination, she vowed herself to divert his attention until the Afternoon Tea was over.


	2. Into the Night

Moirin and Jacob strolled down the flawlessly trimmed pathway of a small local park. The infamous Rook leader had brought along his trusty cane sword as his only defense, but little did he know that the young woman beside him had a pistol tucked in her purse. Their teatime had been somewhat awkward, considering that they’ve only been uttering immoral jokes to the point where they were asked to leave the tea room.

“You’re a little peculiar for a young lady,” Jacob remarked and made a point to whack the hedges with his weapon.

“How so, Mr. Frye?” Moirin asked.

“You do not hold back your laughter, you eat your desserts first, and you do not seem to mind socializing with a scoundrel such as I.”

Moirin had to smile at that. “Well, for one thing: if I do hold back on my giggles, how are you supposed to know that I am having a marvelous time? Secondly, the desserts were reasonably tempting, why can I have what I prefer? And lastly, I do not mind mingling with your likes, Mr. Frye, because I know you have a bit of virtue in your heart.”

“How so, Miss Hunts?” Jacob retorted with an arrogant smirk.

They both paused in their walk to look at each other closely. Moirin had never realized it, but she saw that Mr. Frye’s eyes seemed to glint mischief, and his mouth had more color in it than other men. She felt her cheeks burn with a desire she never knew of until now. Looking away from him, the young woman stared hard at the flowerless shrubberies in order to recollect her bearings. Then, she remembered the bet Bee had laid down on her. But was it even worth it at the moment? Moirin nodded inwardly: yes, it definitely is.

“Well, if you were a true scoundrel, you would’ve done something to avoid this event, and you would have just snatched my purse and be on with it.” She told him. A genuine smile began to appear on Jacob’s face, and it was hard not to smile in return. 

“That sounds very reasonable, Miss Hunts, and I thought I had failed to impress you.”

“From the moment I met you, Mr. Frye, I knew that you wouldn’t.”

“I accept your compliment, Miss Hunts.” Jacob reached for her hand and gently held it. Moirin’s eyes widened in surprise. Thinking that he had gone too far, he released her and placed a minimal distance between their shoulders. Their rest of their stroll was done in awkward silence; in a short time, Moirin declared that their engagement has concluded. Jacob nodded, although there was a morsel of disappointment visible in his expression.

The Rook leader whistled for a nearby growler, and courteously opened the door for her. Moirin nodded her head in thanks, taking tentative steps as she climbed into the carriage. All of a sudden, a hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist. She looked back at Jacob, who seemed so uncertain whether or not he should let her go.

“Uhmm, if it is all right with you, can we see each other again tonight?” Jacob asked her.

The young woman knew that it was considered rude for a lady to meet with her suitor twice in a day, as she had other gentlemen to accomodate for later. But, since when did she consider herself as an upper-class woman? With a most serene smile, Moirin agreed.

“Thank you!” her Boss breathed out. “I will meet you near Blackfriars Bridge at eight in the evening, come as elegant as you are right now.” He then leaned down to kiss her knuckles before letting go. He closed the door and knocked on the carriage to let the driver know that the passenger was good to go.

When Moirin returned to Mrs. Disraeli’s town house, she was greeted by Evie herself. The older Frye twin inquired about her day, but she quickly stepped back and dodged a right hook from the Rook girl.

“Did Bee talk you into this? Is that why you’ve been quiet all this time?” Moirin said and tried to take another swing at her leader.

“Moirin, I need you to calm down, and let me explain!” Evie said, blocking each attack until the Irish girl gradually stopped her efforts. Then, unexpectedly, she let out a sob: fleeing towards the drawing room, she sat down upon the window seat and allowed a few tears to fall.

Evie frowned softly and placed a comforting hand on the girl’s trembling shoulder. “Moirin, please do not blame Bee. She wanted you to be happy with your life, so she begged me to assist her with the scheme.”

Moirin sniffed. “She told you, didn’t she? I knew I couldn’t trust her to keep a secret.”

“Actually, your vague glances towards my brother are not quite subtle.” Evie said with an encouraging pat on the back. “So tell me, honestly, how was tea with Jacob?”  
So the Irish lass told her everything: from the moment he arrived, up to the part where they took a leisurely walk around a park. Evie was nothing but compliant towards her until Moirin stopped in mid-sentence—

“Oh no, I forgot to mention: Mr. Frye did not recognize me at all, and in my panic, I used a different name to introduce myself,” she told her second Boss.

Evie pondered over the situation and said, “You have to tell him the truth, Moirin.”

“What?! B-But, what if he becomes mad? He believed that I was a lady the whole hour.” Moirin frowned and removed her straw bonnet in frustration. “He even asked me to meet him at Blackfriars Bridge tonight!”

The older Frye twin blinked at that. “What ever for?”

“I don’t know, but if he is planning to kill me because I lied to him, then I’m ready to face the consequences of my actions!” she exclaimed.

Evie stood up, seizing the girl by the shoulders, and shook her violently. “Moirin, listen to your own words! My brother is a killer, yes, but he isn’t going to murder you for one petty little lie. And if he is willing to invite you a second time, then it simply means that he adores you.”

“But, Miss Frye...”

“I will have none of that. You will prepare yourself for this meeting at the Thames, and you will tell Jacob about who you are. It is time to stop hiding in the shadows, Moirin.”

The Rook girl looked up at the older Frye twin, and, with a determined nod, she agreed. “Hold on, where is Bee? Shouldn’t she be back from her own engagement?”

 

With her open parasol resting on her left shoulder, Bee went to hook her hand into Starrick’s inner elbow. While the gesture was considered civil by standards, she still felt as though she was making a scandal out of it. They had been wandering the greeneries of Hyde Park for so long, she wondered if the older gentleman was calculating a scheme to brutally murder her behind the shrubberies and toss her body into the Thames afterwards. Oh, that sounds like a perfect end to the afternoon, don’t you think?

“The weather seems very agreeable, am I right, Mr. Starrick?” she said in order to divert her jitters elsewhere. 

When the man beside her did not form a reply, she was starting to believe that he was truly going to gut her and leave her for the crows to feast on. All of her worries were proven true when Starrick shepherded her into a secluded area. He roughly pushed her up against the wide trunk of a tree; in her terror, she grasped on tightly to the handle of the hidden dagger, but was too scared to unsheathe it: his face was just inches away from her, and she could very well smell the hint of tea on his breath.

“Do you know why I am selective when it comes to events such as these, Miss Oddey?” The younger woman in question shook her head, nearly ripping her bonnet off.

“Then let me clarify that for you: with a man of my caliber, it is not so difficult to find a woman who will do what she can to physically please me.” Starrick almost growled out. “However, I find that those who willingly surrender themselves to me are platitudinous, and I lose interest in them over time.”

Bee shivered again, and yet it felt strangely nice. She pressed her body further into the tree in hopes of distancing herself from this predator, but Starrick simply leaned forward until his neatly clipped moustache brushed along her cheek. She let out a small cry which turned into a ragged gasp when she felt his mouth ghosting over her jawline.

“In truth, I prefer women who have a little spirit in them, only to tremble in my grasp, and I am rather fortunate to find that preference in you, Miss Oddey.” Starrick whispered huskily into her ear. His left hand came up to cup her cheek and tilted her head back so he could stare directly into her brown eyes. There was fright in them, but there was also a tiny glimmer of need and a hunger that he knows all too well.

He reached up for the parasol and tipped it downwards so as not to attract attention from prying eyes and curious glances. To them, they looked like a couple disregarding the rules of manner and etiquette. The afternoon sunlight pierced through the lace, dappling the young woman’s profile, thus clouding her intimidated expression. Her gaze stayed locked into his, watching and waiting.

“How about we continue this engagement further into the night? I have no further plans this evening, and I am somewhat fond of your company, Miss Oddey.”

“Please,” Bee suddenly said after a long period of silence. “Call me Bibianna instead.”

“Then you shall refer to me as Crawford from now on.” He steadied her, then, with quick precision, twisted the handle of the parasol and pulled out the narrow dagger. “I knew that you were not a high-born lady, and yet you possess a clandestine weapon such as this. How ingenious of you, my dear.”

Bee mended her countenance and raised a defiant chin. “Anything to defend myself from fiendish men.” Then, hesitantly, she added, “Such as you.” 

To her surprise, the older man merely smirked at her accusation, and then offered his arm to her once more. She gladly accepted it this time as they strolled down the same route, toward the colossal gate of Hyde Park. Starrick’s private carriage waited just by the drive, and the ever so compliant butler opened the door for them. Bee clambered inside first, followed by Starrick, who sat on the opposite seat so he could drink in the appearance of the young woman presented before him.

“Where should we converge again?” she inquired him, remembering that her evening gown was waiting for her in the hideout.

“I was looking forward to have an invitation sent over to your address.” Crawford said.

Bee forced a coy smile to appear on her face. “My address,” she repeated. “Umm, right.” It was Crawford’s turn to raise a chin in her direction.

“You do have lodgings at the least? I wouldn’t be surprised if you have taken the poor accomodations in Whitechapel,” he stated with much aristocratic haughtiness.

“Would it discourage your want of me if I tell you the truth?”

“And what is the truth, Bibianna?” the way he spoke her name conveyed another jolt of electricity down her arms: it caused her skin to form miniscule bumps, and her hair to stand on its ends. She was very much tempted to confess everything to him: about her life, about her real livelihood, and about the Rooks.

“That I live in the East End with vagabonds and prostitutes.”

Crawford examined her carefully; his gaze had penetrated right through her. He then said, “To think that from the lowliest of places, we tend to find the most enticing of all creatures on earth.” Bee silently sent a prayer of gratitude to all saints and angels she could recall. She then gave her address to the without doubt before she requested to be dropped off at the Victoria Station. When inquired, she simply said—

“It would be a blemish to your reputation, Crawford. I think it would be best if I venture the second half of the journey on my own,” she told him.

“Very well then, my lady.”

Once arriving at the aforementioned station, Bee uttered a quiet farewell and moved to dismount the carriage. But then Crawford reached for her, stopping her from departing. For a moment, the young woman thought he finally realized who she was. All too quickly, he hauled her towards him and brushed his mouth across hers. Their lips clung together and it was Crawford who let out a groan. From the moment he pulled away, Bee wanted to chase after him.

“Think of it as a sample of what has yet to come, my dear.” He said, enchantingly.

Bee couldn’t help but grin. “I look forward to it.”

The Victoria Station was reasonably crowded during the afternoon hours since workers, mainly household servants, were eager to go home to their houses and beloved families. Bee glanced about the place, knowing that Bertha would come around at this hectic time. To her relief, she saw their train pulling up on the other side of the tracks, and thus she climbed the lovely iron bridge to reach the hideout. She counted off the cars, as she had a tendency to forget which car held their little parloour. When she noted an open doorway, she simply jumped in, and walked into her Boss, half-naked.

“Bee!” Jacob exclaimed.

“Mr. Frye! How wonderful it is to see you already in the process of undress! Don’t mind if I do!” The young woman joked whilst eyeing the rippling back muscles of her leader. “So, how did your afternoon go, sir?”

Jacob rolled his eyes; he was aware that Bee wouldn’t leave no matter how hard he tried to convince her. Therefore, he continued to unbutton his uncomfortably tight trousers and rolled it off his hips and legs. “Evie made me go on this strange meeting of some sorts, had tea with some posh-looking girl, and we took a stroll at a park. It was good, actually.”

Bee hummed in reply and picked up the discarded clothing to fold them into a neat pile. “Which one? The girl or the park?” she inquired and took a quick glance at Jacob’s round buttocks and hairy legs.

“The girl, of course.” Jacob replied and paused to take a gander at his little Rook. “What about you then? Did some unfortunate bloke respond to your advertisement again?”

Her nervousness returned with a foul vengeance. “Oh, yes. He was a respectable fellow whose business runs on soothing syrups.” She pursed her lips afterwards, praying that her Boss would not make an assumption.

“Ah, I see.” He muttered while digging through his wardrobe. “Is he an honest man?”

“More than you should know.” Bee implied sensually. Jacob scoffed at her before tossing his used underpants into her face. “Oh, how did you know? I’ve always wanted a pair of your drawers, Mr. Frye.”

She then watched him put on a new linen shirt, black trousers, and polished leather boots. Jacob garbed himself with a lilac waistcoat, and carelessly tied an indigo blue cravat underneath the straight collars of his shirt. He likewise used his pricey black kid gloves, and added gold cuff links to his ensemble. Bee shook her head; she gave her Boss a light scolding as she fixed his cravat and tucked his shirt properly into his trousers.

“Thank you, Bee.” Jacob said as would a child say to his mother.

“Your welcome, Mr. Frye. Now, since we both seem to have a busy schedule, I have to take my leave: my gentleman and I have plans for tonight. And I probably won’t return until tomorrow.” Bee pinched his cheek and turned around to gather her evening gown in the next car. However, she paused at the doorway to look at her Boss. She smiled softly at his nervous yet persistent demeanor, and knew that Moirin had chosen the right person.

 

Evie studied the glass surface of her watch, blankly staring at the ticking hands that moved almost sluggishly across the rotund plain of white. The door to her right, which led to the boudoir, had swung open: Mrs. Disraeli stepped out of the private room with the smugness of a mother who just realized how beautiful her daughter was. Evie stood up from her seat and was on the verge of inquiring when Moirin steadily walked into the hall and posed in front of her Boss.

The gown was made from the finest silk, and was dyed in indigo blue. Ruffles of white decorated the neckline and sleeves, whereas silver threads were embroidered onto the skirt to resemble twinkling stars in the night. Her long brown hair had been brushed to a perfect sheen, and was then braided into a chignon, leaving several curls to frame her beautiful face. She pursed her lips in a smile, and playfully turned around to show off the entire gown to Evie.

“Oh my God, Moirin! You’re absolutely stunning!” Evie exclaimed.

Mrs. Disraeli let out a chuckle and waved a hand toward the female Assassin. “Of course, she is, Miss Frye! Just look at how exquisite the attire is on her form! Well, I used to be that slender, so I thought it would be good for her to wear it!”

Moirin could not help but burst into a fit of giggles that practically left tears in her eyes. “Forgive me, it’s just that this gown...it’s the most beautiful thing I have ever worn.”

“Yes, it is.” Evie replied with a nod. “Now, you have at least thirty minutes before the scheduled time, so I suggest you grab a cloak and head over to Blackfriars Bridge. And do not worry: I will be nearby in case something happens to you.” She then guided the Rook into the awaiting carriage outside the town house. Mrs. Disraeli, now accompanied with her beloved Desmond, waved them off at the doorway.

“Off you go, sweetie! And have fun with Mr. Frye!” she shouted.

Moirin tousled her skirts, although she had more difficult with the crinoline as it refused to cooperate with her new position. The minute she and Evie had managed to settle each confounding layer, the two women were ready to uncover whatever it is that the infamous Jacob Frye was planning in the Thames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moirin's Day Dress: https://40.media.tumblr.com/2a8e5f7c6c8087b0b82850e29a04a62d/tumblr_nkgfobnsEm1qf46efo1_1280.jpg
> 
> Moirin's Evening Gown: http://40.media.tumblr.com/f789fcba37e406c9570bcf1f1528e22f/tumblr_nxidg79hrx1qf46efo1_400.jpg
> 
> Bee's Day Dress: http://fripperiesandfobs.tumblr.com/image/137714960937


	3. Moirin

The knot of apprehension continued to tighten itself deep within the pit of her belly. Moirin kept a wary glance outside the carriage window as they passed by lamp posts that seemed ominous against the dark evening sky. It did not help that her only companion for the entire drive had been silent and calculating, and was pondering over whatever reason her brother had to invite their gang member to a second meet. By standards, a young lady can only attend one engagement per suitor, but since neither Moirin or Jacob were from the higher classes, what would stop them from having another tryst?

The carriage suddenly stopped, and the driver had announced that they have arrived at their destination. Moirin looked to Evie, who only gave her a quiet nod. The Rook girl bit her bottom lip before opening the door to step out into the chilly night. She grasped at her cloak and took a deep breath before walking towards the wharf: to her astonishment, Moirin saw her Boss, Jacob, standing at the top of the stairs, waiting for her to appear. Like before, he was garbed in the finest garments one could only see among the residents of Westminster and the West End. When he saw her carefully marching towards him, Jacob spread his arms like wings, and welcomed her to the mysterious celebration.

“And here I thought you wouldn’t come,” he said and took her gloved hand in order to place gentle kisses on her knuckles. Even through the fabric, Moirin could feel the heat of his lips on her skin.

“Why wouldn’t I? You have captured my interests, Mr. Frye.” Moirin said, praying that she retained a cultured tone. Then, remembering what Evie had told her, she tried to open her mouth to tell him the truth, when all of a sudden a symphony floated into the air. Jacob smiled at her amazed expression: he clasped her hand in his, and he guided her down the steps to the moored barge below.

On the deck of the boat, there was a round table set for two persons, and a band of local musicians was playing a familiar lullaby. Although the choice of music was out of place, Moirin could not help but feel absolute guilt racking throughout her body. All of this was prepared for Cecily Hunts, the Lady; not for Moirin Ladyman, the artistic Rook member. She soon felt hands upon her shoulders, and her cloak was gradually removed to reveal the beautiful gown underneath. She turned and saw Jacob staring down at her in awe.

“You are very beautiful, my lady.”

“You did say I should come as elegant as I was, and here I am.” Moirin remarked, a light dusting of pink soon appeared on her cheeks.

“And so you are.” Jacob replied. He then perked up like a champagne bubble. “I believe dinner is almost ready, shall we head to the table then, Miss Hunts?” He offered his hand to her, which she courteously accepted, and he carried her towards the sophisticated table.

A single red candle was situated in the middle; two chinware plates bedecked with lovely bird-of-paradise motifs were used, and a set of silver forks and knives flanked each plate according to its proper usage. Jacob civilly set his young lady on her respective chair, and he went to occupy his seat. Moirin almost let out a burst of laughter when she saw that Nigel Bumble was to be their server that evening. His own hair had been brushed back, and he had been put into a livery that was twice his size. 

The clumsy Rook lad introduced himself before taking out a bottle of red wine, which he then tried to open, but to no avail. With a roll of his eyes, Jacob stood up and pulled the cork off with ease. The dinner began with a French-styled stew of peas and bacons, followed by a main course of broiled patridges, and it ended with a delicious serving of cornucopias filled with sweet cream. Moirin had taken meager bites of each meal; the dithers in her stomach continued to grow in every passing second. 

After the plates were cleared, she looked over to Jacob, and saw that he was staring at her. The glow of the candlelight did not overlook even the tiniest of flaws on his comely face. And it was like everything had been revealed in that radiance. She could only smile at him when their gazes finally connected, and Jacob let out a timid laugh that was rare coming from her Boss. But then again, this was Cecily who was encouraging his bliss, not Moirin. For a moment, they simply stared, until the music began to change haltingly, and before she could recognize the song, regardless of its poor execution, Jacob was asking her for a dance.

“I should confess that I’m not a perfect dancer,” he said as they walked to the center of the deck.

“There is nothing difficult about a waltz, Mr. Frye, you only have to follow your partner. Like so,” she took left hand and placed it on her waist. Their remaining hands came up and hesitantly came together. Moirin made the first step in their dance, and Jacob soon followed her movements.

The swish of skirts and the tentative pacing of steps was a spectacle to beheld on the deck of the boat. The couple that danced to the music grew closer by the minute, and before anyone knew it, Jacob pulled her to him and came down to brush his lips against her own. Moirin stood there, eyes wide with shock, as her own Boss was pressing himself to her, further deepening the one-sided kiss. Jacob must have realized that she was stock still, because he withdrew from her and examined her expression for any signs of disgust.

“I-I’m sorry, Miss, I do not know what came over me.” Jacob said and tried to steady her. Moirin blinked back her tears and abruptly bolted past him to run up the platform. “Wait! Miss Hunts! Cecily!”

“My name is not Cecily Hunts!” the Irish lass shouted over her shoulder. “And I am certainly not a highborn lady!” She stopped and turned to face her Boss. “My real name is Moirin Ladyman, and you probably don’t know who I am because...” she let her words hang above them like a hangman’s noose. The series of emotions in his eyes was enough for her to retreat to the carriage, she hurriedly asked the driver to take her to the train station and quickly mounted the transport, unaware that the hem of her beautiful gown was caught in the door.

Minutes flew by like a summer bird; Moirin groaned, regretting every decision she had made starting from the response letters. Hopefully, Bee was in a much fortunate situation with her own gentleman. Perhaps she was more lucky than her in any aspect in general. The driver, somewhat solemn, said that they were now by the station. She thanked him again for all he’s done, and that he was free to return to Mrs. Disraeli now. A cold wind came down and shrouded her with its cold embrace: she shuddered from its painful touch, recalling that her cloak was left behind on the boat. The station was awfully quiet for such a time in the evening: there were no passengers waiting for their trains, nor were there any living soul insight, except for the presence of their train hideout.

Moirin clambered into the Parlour car and was clearly glad to see their barkeep sitting on his favorite stool, waiting for some Rook to come in and have a drink. When he saw her enter the car, he whistled his approval, but upon seeing her downcast stare, the barkeep got up from his seat and prepared a large pint of ale. She did not know why she had chosen this place instead of running back all the way to Whitechapel for complete solace. As she took a big gulp from her drink, someone else came into the car to order for their usual beer, and sat down on the barstool right beside Moirin. She did not have to look up to know it was Jacob Frye.

The two sat there in the car, until Jacob spoke first, “Evie told me everything.”

Moirin nodded before swallowing another mouthful. “I didn’t mean to fool you like this, Mr. Frye,” she said; her voice was a little hoarse from letting the drink burn in her throat. “To be honest, I did not know it was going to be you until that meeting in the tea room.”

“We’ve both been set up, lass. By the people we trust the most.” Jacob gave a curt nod at their barkeep before he nearly drowned himself with his beer. He let out a loud sigh once he had partaken his volume of alcohol, and he even called in for a refill.

“You know,” Jacob began, and turned to look at his Rook. “If Bee and Evie had simply introduced us to each other, none of this would have happened.”

Moirin was taken aback by his statement. “What ever do you mean, sir?” She saw him smirk a bit; he returned to his pint and drank more than he intended. He coughed aloud, but managed to halt her when she tried to pat him on the back.

“I mean, I’ve always been aware that someone from the gang likes me more than just their Boss, but I was not quite sure who it was. Bee was one of the candidates, and while her sexual prowess is insatiable, I find that a round of animalistic sex can turn boring after a few times.” Jacob explained.

“Wait, you and Bee?” Moirin inquired. She felt her heart jumping into unnatural speeds.

“It was fun while it lasted. But then, she kept mentioning you, and how tolerant you were, despite all of the damages she had done, and all of the men she had encountered on her way to Sunday Church. She liked the way you looked at me from time to time: as if I meant the entire world to you.”

“Yes, you do.” Moirin whispered. But Jacob caught on, and he finally had the courage to look at her, much like the way he did when he danced with her on the boat. “It’s just that, for so long, I thought I was just another Rook; that I was nothing more than your ally during the gang wars and whatever task you put us through. Now, I understand that it wasn’t you who wrote the response letter: it was too elegant; it couldn’t have been you.”

Jacob chuckled into his beer. “You are correct in that presumption.”

Before long, it was Moirin’s turn to smile. “I really am sorry, Mr. Frye. I hope there is a better way to mend all of this confusion.”

“Moirin, if you’re sorry about everything, tell me that you did not enjoy the tea we had, the stroll in the park, and the moment when I asked you to meet me again at night.”  
When she could not formulate an answer, Jacob swooped in and took her lips once again. He withdrew for an instant to say, “Had I know you’ve liked me since the day we met, perhaps I could have been more accommodating to you more than Bee.”

“Can we not talk about Bee, and focus on ourselves tonight?” Moirin said breathlessly, cupping the chiseled jawline of her Boss, and pulling him down for their lips to meet in another passionate dance. A loud cough interrupted their moment, as the young couple had nearly forgotten about the barkeeper.

Jacob sighed and, with a roll of his hazel green eyes, captured Moirin into his great arms, and carried her all the way to his private car. They had trouble along the way, for Agnes had returned from her reprieve at a local pub, and was already halfway through starting her beloved Bertha. Moirin and Jacob smiled to themselves as the locomotive moved from its lenient state. He set his Rook upon his favorite lounge and began to make quick work of his skin-tight clothing. However, he did notice the flash of shyness on the girl’s face when she saw him removing his jacket and cravat.

“Moirin, have you ever laid with a man before?” Jacob asked.

“Is it because I’ve been with Bee for the longest time?” Moirin had to retort. “No, I’m not like her at all. If she were here, she’d know what to do.”

“I see; quite a change, I must say.” He leaned closer to press his nose on her neck and inhaled the perfume lingering on her skin. “It’s been a while since I’ve taken someone so achingly slow and hard.” Jacob purred like a cat that has gotten his share of milk.

“Mr. Frye, wait-!” Moirin let out a small shriek when she felt his tongue dart out and lick a path from her neck, up to her ear, where he stopped to gently nibble on her lobe. “Ah! Mr. Frye, please, I don’t know how I could please you!”

“You need not worry, love. Do you even know how innocently seductive you were to me? I was beginning to think that I’d rather fuck Cecily Hunts and be done with it. But after the little revelation, I’ve come to appreciate Moirin Ladyman a bit more.” He murmured. The girl underneath him writhed. Pure scorching hot lust intoxicated her at that moment. And Moirin understood that she needed him in ways only an experienced woman would know about.

Jacob pulled away from her to begin shutting the drapes and locking both doors on either side of his car. Moirin could feel a strange sensation pool into her belly as she observed the way he strutted; she soon stood on her feet and carefully removed every pin from her well-fashioned hair. Her Boss watched all of this with slight amusement. He shrugged off his waistcoat, carelessly tossing it over the back of a chair, and walked up behind her. Jacob caressed her shoulders, then reached for the row of cloth buttons that held her gown together. There will be more to undress beneath that, but he wasn’t impatient right now. He wanted to savor every second of this unravelling.

As he spread open the back of Moirin’s gown, his thought were already rushing ahead, considering how this one night would change their live forever. “Are you sure that you’re ready for this, Moirin?”

Her voice came, certain and strong. “I am, Mr. Frye. I’ve always wanted to be with you.”

“How bold of you,” Jacob remarked. He gently withdrew one of her arms from a sleeve, then repeated the movement on the other side. With a forceful tug, he removed the bodice to leave the girl still shielded by a corset. He lifted the skirts over her head, and unfastened the frame that gave her gown its desired form. Once that had been set aside, Moirin was left in her undergarments, shoes, and stockings.

“You look so beautiful, Moirin,” he said, raking her entire body with a heated glance. There were still too many garments, but he knew that he was seeing her as no other man ever had before.

“And you are rather unfair, Mr. Frye.” Moirin placed a hand on her hip. “I want to see you in a state of undress as well.”

Jacob quickly pressed his lips to her ear. “I could just take you as you are right now. Perhaps I should simply pull down your drawers, undo my trousers, and pin you against the wall.”

Moirin laughed and turned around to wrap her arms around his neck. “I am difficult to threaten, Mr. Frye.” In response, he buried his grin into her tender throat.

His hands travelled everywhere on her body, and he observed how her breasts lifted and fell with her rapid breathing. In one rapid movement, his hand slipped through the slit of her drawers and used his fingers to part her lower lips. Startled, Moirin buckled and felt like a newborn deer trying to stand on its legs. Jacob groaned upon finding that she was already wet with excitement. He retracted his hand and made quick work with the corset: her breasts were freed from their confines, and he couldn’t help but lick his lips in hunger at the sight of them.

The ache between her legs was impossible to ignore by then. Moirin reluctantly untied the strings that held up her drawers and allowed the clothing to gather at her feet. Garbed in her shoes and stockings, she bent over to unlace her footwear when a large hand cupped her chin, tilting her head up so she could look straight into the dilated pupils of her Boss.

“You will keep those on, lass. For the entire engagement.” Jacob smirked.

“I’m nervous, Mr. Frye.” Moirin replied. 

But her breath was caught in her throat when she saw that Jacob was undoing the rest of his own clothing and had shamelessly tossed them all over the place until he completely bare to her. Her eyes studied his body with much interest. When she had met him, she imagined his body to be toned and hardened to fit his active occupation, but there was something more alluring about his lack of muscles than any other fantasies she might have had during her restless nights. 

Then, she stared down at his cock, which was thick and hard, and slick at the tip with wanting of her. Moirin hesitantly raised a hand, as if she needed permission to touch him. Jacob grinned and seized his erect member in his hand: he leisurely stroked himself and watched the vast array of emotions going through the Rook girl. When a familiar white fluid began to drip from the tip, Moirin leaned over and touched the moisture with the pads of her fingers. Jacob shuddered and instinctively cupped her breast and kneaded the mound with much vigor. The girl breathed out a moan: her very breath tickled his cock, and he felt his self-control crumbling bit by bit. Pushing her onto the lounge, Jacob continued to massage her breasts; his leaking cock settled between their stomachs.

“Do you see what you’ve done to me, Moirin? I do not know if I can be gentle with you any longer.” He whispered huskily. The said girl whimpered as his thumb and forefinger surrounded her nipple and tugged on it, sending shocks of intense pleasure straight into her core.

“I want to fuck you hard, until I guarantee that I’m all you will ever think about.”

“You always were in my mind, Mr. Frye.” Moirin managed to mewl out before she cried outwhen Jacob began to suck at her breast, growling against her skin. His tongue lapped at the tender flesh, and he moved to give the same attention to the other.

“Mr. Frye, this is too much! Too much!” She wrapped her legs around his waist, the very heels of her shoes digging onto his back.

“Call me Jacob, love. I need you to say my name.”

“Jacob, please-Oh!” She gasped as he squeezed her breasts, fondling them while a playful grin was plastered on his handsome face. She moved her hand down to her own belly, and confessed, “I feel something...fluttering in here!”

“I’ll be there soon, love. I’ll be deep inside of you soon.” He then pressed his lips to her, taking in all of her moans. His fingertips hurried downward and teased her wet folds. Moirin mewled against his mouth, and he had to retreat from her. 

“Open your legs,” Jacob urged, kissing her throat.

“Jacob,” Moirin began to quiver as his fingers stroked her very entrance. Then, the pad of his thumb pressed lightly against her clit and rubbed at the fleshy knob. With a cry, she held onto the armrest behind her and allowed Jacob to ease a finger into her.

“Jacob, oh God!” He hastened his pace, his finger thrusting in and out. Her body began to dampen with sweat, and her breasts ached almost delightfully. Desperate mewling poured from her throat, and she clung to him, trying to bring him closer to her. 

“Jacob, please, my breasts. Oh!” Moirin arched upward in obvious invitation.

“With pleasure, my darling.” Her Boss purred and suckled on her nipples once more.

The first orgasm stole her breath when it hit. Moirin felt her body grow rigid, her heart slammed against her ribs, and her blood rushed through her ears. When she finally came down from her high, she looked down and saw that Jacob had spread her legs and was gazing intently into her cunt. His cock was throbbing with great need, and she was the only one who could satisfy him at this point. With her awkward angle on the lounge, Moirin could not register the look of wanton lust in Jacob’s eyes until she felt him pushing the thick head into the tender opening. 

Still ravaged by the sensation from her initial climax, Moirin threw her head back and moaned aloud. Jacob buried himself to the very hilt and leaned down to capture every whimper that came from his lover. He felt her hands grasping at his arms, anchoring him to her as he laid on top of her.

“I’m going to move now, tell me if I’m hurting you.” Jacob gasped. His senses were overwhelmed by their foreplay, and it did not help knowing how tight and hot Moirin was for him right now.

“You won’t hurt me, I trust you.” Her voice was distant, but it was enough for him to feel a sensation of pride. 

He rolled his hips onto hers, and she let out a breathy moan. His pace was slow and careful. Jacob gazed down to observe the look of bliss in the girl’s eyes and he did his best to push deeper and deeper, groaning with the ecstasy of it all. Then, with a desperate thrust, he hit the end of her. Moirin cried out as Jacob finally struck deep within her. A flare of relief spread outward from the aching spot that begged to be rubbed, and then coiled tight again.

“Jacob, please. I want more!” Moirin whimpered and pulled him in for a long kiss.

“And you will have more, Moirin.” The pace he had began gradually grew fast: the sound of their hips smacking against one another was the only symphony they could hear over the grinding of the train over the railways. He drove forecefully into her, eliciting all sorts of pleas and begging from her pretty little mouth.

“Jacob! Oh, please, don’t stop!” The coiling tension in her womb tightened, forming a hard knot that made her head thrash against the brutal pleasure. And then it broke free in a riot of sensation. The tight muscles of her cunt came down on Jacob’s cock so suddenly, the Rook leader let out a loud groan, and he jerked in time to spill his seed right into her. Damp in their sweat and bodily fluids, Jacob reluctantly pulled himself out and curled around Moirin, his skin sticking to her with their mingled perspiration.

“I love you,” he whispered as he smothered her with kisses.

“I love you too, Jacob.” The feel of her silk stocking against his legs sent a shiver down his spine, and both knew, in their state of happiness, that their night had only just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [fans herself hard]
> 
> No words are needed for this. I just can't. I hope you're enjoying yourself, Moirin! Gah!


	4. Bee

Bibianna “Bee” Oddey grasped on tightly to the edge of the vanity table for her dear life: she gripped the wood with all of her might as she felt her belly tighten with each minute.

“I think this is quite enough, Georgina!” she said promptly to the Rook initiate behind her, and let out a loud sigh of relief when the girl securely fastened the laces.

The young woman stepped back from the vanity to gauge her reflection on the mirror: thus far, she was only garbed in her undergarments, pink stockings, and bejeweled shoes, which meant that the hoop crinoline was coming next. Georgina had to stand on the bed in order to hold the frame above Bee’s head before steadily lowering it down and taping it close around her hips. The full round skirt came after, followed by its matching bodice. The gown was a creamy white, with a motif centering on budding roses and pink stripes. They soon went through the task of styling half of hair into a chignon, leaving the rest of her natural wavy tresses to shroud her bare shoulders.

“Well, how do I look?” Bee inquired with a playful twirl.

“Absolutely stunning, Miss Bee!” Georgina exclaimed. She received a purse full of coins in response to her remark. The young girl thanked her peer before rushing out of the room to purchase a bottle of gin for herself.

Now by her lonesome, Bee sauntered over to the window to view the street down below: there was no sign of a carriage anywhere in sight. She did her best to calm her nerves before a soft meow distracted her from her worrying: Oscar the orange tabby cat leaped onto the nearby ottoman and started to paw at the air in front of him.

Bee laughed and bent down to pick up one of her many stray felines. “Oh, Oscar darling, I can’t play with you right now. Your mum’s invited to have dinner with a very handsome gentleman, who has the potential of killing me if he ever finds out about my association with the Rooks.” The very thought of Starrick sent a slight shiver down her spine.

The cat purred in her arms until a much louder rumbling noise echoed through the lane. Bee hurriedly walked over to the window, witnessing an ominous black growler parked in front of the apartment building. She placed her cat on the vanity table and sprayed herself with perfume that smelled of lavender and vanilla. As she rushed to head downstairs, hooded cloak in hand, Oscar looked at the perfume bottle beside him and offhandedly pushed the item off the table, where it crashed into a hundred pieces on the floorboards.

Bee could feel her very heart thumping against her ribcage when she stepped out into the scarcely populated street, where the footman led her to the intimidating black carriage, and assisted her into the transport. In there, she noted the use of smooth velvet wallpaper for the interior; the seats were pleasantly cushioned to keep the sitter comfortable during the entire drive. Through the stained-glass window, she watched the scenery of the slums gradually passing by, ignoring the well-to-do transport that drove through their territory. She was thankful that Starrick did not use a private carriage of his that bore his emblem, otherwise the Rooks would have attacked it with no qualms.

The drive was somewhat long and tedious that Bee started to grow bored from the wait. And to add to the dilemma, she could feel her very stomach rioting for food. If only she had stolen that pastry on display, then she would not be having this humiliating problem. When she almost dozed off to the melodic symphony of horse hooves on the cobblestones, the carriage abruptly stopped, jarring her awake. The young woman quickly looked about, wondering where they were now. The familiar noise of sloshing water gave her an idea.

The footman came and opened the door: he held out his hand to assist her off the growler, and then took off alongside the carrage. Bee stared up at the sublime townhouse standing before her like an elegant leviathan: each window was lit to show off the wealth of its current tenant, and there was a feeling of rushed excitement spilling forth from its door, which was painted black. From where she stood, Bee could see the dark profile of a man standing behind the curtains. It seemed as though he was there to watch her closely, waiting for her decision to enter or leave.

Grasping at her cloak, the young woman stepped forth and walked up to the dark door. She knocked thrice: the obstruction swung open in a flourish, and the white-gloved butler from earlier appeared before her.

“Mr. Starrick is waiting for you in the Dining Room, Miss Oddey,” he said promptly.

Bee could only nod as she crossed the threshold. Oliver kindly removed her cloak before leading her toward the designated room. She forced her nerves to relax; every step she took seemed drag on for an eternity. The young woman paused for a moment so the butler could properly announce her arrival to the lord of the house, and when she was gestured to enter, she did so in a graceful stride. Crawford Starrick stood behind his chair looking powerful and magnificent as ever: he was sporting a ruby red waistcoat with gold patterns; his black cravat carried a small pin bearing his personal insignia. The grip he had on the back of the chair tightened for an instant before he calmly collected his bearings.

“Miss Oddey,” he greeted, but it still sent a gratifying sensation through the said woman. Crawford strode over to her, and Bee naturally allowed him to take her hand and place gentle yet meaningful kisses on her knuckles.

“Mr. Starrick,” she replied in jest. She could practically feel the need and the carnality exuding from his form. She was guided to her respective seat, at the other end of the table, where she had been set rather civilly. Crawford then returned to his own seat in the opposite side, free to admire his beguiling guest from a safe distance.

Bee was honestly surprised he did not take her right then and now, judging by the looks he gave her when he finally sat down. The servants that evening stepped forward to place the fine silk napkins upon their laps before the drinks were proffered in their established wine glasses and such. She tried not to make a remark regarding the décor used for the dinner table, as it would give away her poor status, but she continued to lay her eyes on the expensive wares Crawford had prepared just for the two of them.

They initiated the dinner with Turkish Broth, which Bee took delight in, and had to give her compliments to the cook. For the main course, they each had portions of roast hare and beef fillets a la Rossine. Throughout their silent meal, she could feel his eyes roving her body like it was a splayed map for him to thoroughly study on. She caught Crawford staring at her breasts, and she playfully made the gesture of picking at an imaginary dirt, touching the skin just above the valley of her bosom. She watched in mild amusement when the grand leader of the Templars swallowed hard.

Soon, the last course was served; Bee moved her gaze down to see that she had been served with marbled blancmange, while Crawford had a plateful of brandy snaps within his reach. She consumed her dessert bit by bit, her regard still focused on the gentleman sitting across the table. Carefully, she looked at the delicious delicacies and noted how they were overflowing with whipped cream, almost as if the cook had intended them to look like—

“Would the young lady like a taste?” Crawford suddenly inquired her. Bee nearly dropped her spoon in surprise. She muttered her excuse and hastily patted down her mouth with her respective napkin.

“If you do not mind, Mr. Starrick.” She observed the way he plucked one tubular dessert from its plate and stood up to make his way toward her. Bee reached out to take it from his hand, but he stopped her.

“It would be rude of me if I allow you to sully your fingers, my dear.” Crawford said, holding up the baked dessert with his forefinger and thumb. He held it close to her mouth, much like a master handing a special treat to a dog. “Now, take a bite, and savour it.”

Bee settled her gaze on the inviting cream gushing forth from the confection. But, instead of biting it down, she covered the tip with her mouth and leisurely nursed on the filling. Sweet vanilla flavor invaded her tongue, and she gently drew back to lick her bottom lip. A faint sheet of sweat began to materialize on the older man’s forehead, and she had to let out a small giggle of triumph before correcting herself.

“It tastes quite heavenly, sir.” Bee remarked. Crawford took the unfinished brandy snaps into his own mouth and bit on the delicacy. 

His walk was steady, deliberate; each step seemed to measure the thoughts he had after that wanton display. Even if Bee wanted him, hard and rough, she would still resist should he prove to her otherwise. After all, there was a chance that he’d discover her true alliance: her death will be swift and clean, and her body tossed someplace for the Rooks to find. The servers quickly and proficiently cleared the table, and now the two were left to stare at each other, their desires slowly emerging as the night grew on. 

She stood when he did, and Crawford led her up the stairs, to one of the grand parlour rooms of the town house. The room was warm and welcoming; the walls were painted a vibrant shade of lavender, and pasted with engravings. She gaped at the paintings of various somber-looking men, noting the same cross-like pin upon their clothes. A housemaid soon entered with a tray of steaming hot coffee for the two of them, and Crawford dismissed the old lady with a wave of his gloved hand.

“I remember having coffee when I was a child,” Bee stated once Crawford approached her with a cup of the aforementioned drink. “It was the only thing my school could afford, and we’d have to share often, including the bread.”

“I’m surprised to hear that you’re well-educated.” Crawford said, taking a quiet sip while his eyes were fixated upon Bee’s expression.

She smiled, looking away from him to study the crackling fireplace. “It often helps when I’m in need of a moneyed gentleman. While sex is obviously what they cry out from me, I found out that very few admire the way I spoke to them: so posh and cultured, yet so passionate and sensual.”

“Indeed.” The gentleman beside her agreed.

“But I know that it is not my education that entices you. You enjoy lusting after me, sir.” Bee commented after taking a careful sip of her coffee. “Or am I in the wrong?”

Crawford glanced at the half-empty contents of his cup. He then turned to place it down on the tray, and without looking back at Bee, he said, “No, you are not wrong. In reality, I’d rather enjoy having you, right at this moment.”

The young woman canted her body to face him. Her lips leisurely stretched into a smile, and she put her own drink away on an adjacent table. “Mr. Starrick, who knew that you could be a libidinous man behind closed doors?” She was thankful to sit out her gloves and jewelries, as she had a penchant for losing them on most nights.

Bee gently grazed her fingers along the mounds of her breasts as she warily came up to press her body up against Crawford’s backside. She felt him grow tense for an instant, and so she waited until he relaxed in her hold: her hands began their task of unbuttoning his expensive waist coat, and she teasingly inserted her slender fingers into his trousers.

“Stop.” Crawford growled, seizing her hand before they could get any further downward. He turned to finally look at her straight in the eyes,“You are not in control tonight, my dear.”

“And yet, I feel as if I will have my chance some other night.” Bee retorted. “For now, sir, how do you want me?”

“However I wish. For the meantime, I want to strip you bare, and worship your body.” 

He ravaged her mouth with his own, and he held her up against his chest as she responded eagerly into the kiss. Crawford’s hands then found the ties that kept the bodice together, and he took his time unlacing them. Bee stuck out her tongue and let it slide across his bottom lip: he groaned aloud as he hungrily sucked on the appendage. She broke their lust-driven kiss to step back and remove the upper garment, revealing the pale pink corset she wore underneath. Despite his aching want of her, Crawford took the bodice from her hand and neatly laid it on the couch. He likewise helped her step out of her skirts and crinoline until she was standing in her undergarments.

Realizing that he was now holding her in high regard, Bee twirled and leaned onto a wall, indicating that her corset should be done away with. She let out a satisfied sigh when he took care of it as well. With a rush of excitement, she discarded her chemise blouse to display her liberated breasts to him. She grinned upon seeing the growing bulge confined inside his trousers.

Crawford backed up and shed his jacket. He unwound his cravat, then started to work on his opened waistcoat. He approached the dark-eyed nymph in front of him and grasped her by the chin to resume their kiss. This time, however, it was slow, and it drew out the need from both parties.

“Bibianna.” Crawford muttered.

“Yes, Crawford?” Bee drawled, grinning as she felt him leave open-mouthed kisses along her neck and collarbone.

“Have you ever considered wearing a blindfold during foreplay?” he said. She stiffened in his grasp, then turned her head to meet his gaze, but Crawford stopped her with a kiss. “I can see that you have not. But I promise you that it will bring more stimulation to this little game of ours.”

Bee considered this carefully. “I want nothing to blemish this evening. I believe I have desired you too deeply to resist your cravings, so whatever you are planning to do with my body, it would not dampen my ardor for you.”

Nodding, Crawford went to pick up his forsaken cravat, and returned to stand behind Bee. He twisted the expensive satin, and then tied it around her head in a makeshift blindfold.

“How does that feel?” he asked her, his hands coming down to stroke her bare shoulders.

“Strange.”

“Do not move.” 

Bee could only hear Crawford’s footfalls as it gradually faded, then it gained in volume, stopping when he came to a pause in front of her. All of a sudden, something came around her wrists, tying her hands together. Crawford made sure that the bindings he used would not loosen throughout their session; he stepped back in order to admire his work with total satisfaction: Bee’s lovely ample breasts lifted and fell with her hasty breathing; she was the image of a frightened lamb, and that is what he wanted out of her.

“I want you to articulate your cravings. Tell me what feels pleasurable, and what does not. Should you lie, I will know, for your body will betray you.” Crawford stated and rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. He could see her raise an eyebrow above the cravat. Her smile was delicate, but it conveyed her eagerness for the imminent act.

“But what of you? I wish to touch you as well.”

“We will arrive to that part soon, my dear.”

Bee sighed, relaxing her stance. “You are so calm, so controlled. I’m beginning to wonder if all your affairs are like this.”

“A majority of them were more willful; some were loud as cats, others too enthusiastic.” Crawford looked down at her and softly caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

“I recall that you prefer a little spirit in your lovers. Does the sight of breaking their barriers arouse you that much?” Bee asked, inclining her head so that he could brush his fingers down her neck and chest, intentionally missing her breasts.

“It is the idea of submitting yourself after a good fight that entices me.” He told her. “When we met at the hotel, you steeled quite immediately. Why is that?”

Bee shuddered. She tried to come up with an answer, but then she felt him press his lips to her ear. “Any girl would be nervous due to your reputation and affluence. However,” she gasped when his mouth was carefully attacking her neck. “It was your presence that forced me to embolden myself: I felt your virility, and I knew you were not an easy man to deal with.”

“And yet, here you are.” Crawford’s voice was distant, but it still gave her a casual shiver.

What she did not know was that the older man had dropped to his knees. He nuzzled his face against her thighs, and she nearly buckled from the contact. Crawford moved upward, sliding his hands along the fabric of her drawers before proceeding to untie the strings that retained her last undergarment. Bee pursed her lips into a thin line when she realized how exciting this feat was.

The intimate smell of her drove him insane, and with an experimental lap of his tongue, Crawford tasted her, grunting in ecstasy at finding her slick and hot. Startled by this act, Bee stumbled, but was kept steady by the hands latching onto her waist.

“Oh, Crawford!” she whimpered.

“Does my lady find this appealing?” He had to question her, knowing the clear answer, and even went far as to suck on her clitoris.

“Yes!”

Pressing a final kiss to her inner thigh, Crawford did away with her stockings and shoes. He took the brief respite to regain his control as he focused on his breathing and hers, instead of the profane need that clawed inside of him. Finally, she was completely naked. Crawford noted that she was lavishly curved and built for a man’s pleasure. He could feel his cock straining against his trousers, but he knew that it was not time for it yet.

A large warm hand soon cupped her left breast. Bee mewled when expert fingers pinched and rolled her nipple, sending more ripples of pure delight to her already pulsating cunt. “I feel as though you are just the appropriate woman for me. Your breast fits in my palm, and I cannot resist the sight and smell of you. And I simply adore the way you tremble.”

Before Bee could retort, she was abruptly swept off her feet, and was settled upon the comfy cushions of the lounge. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face when she could feel his hands on her knees, prying her legs open. On instinct, she raised her tied hands and latched them onto the back of the furniture. She could hear Crawford chuckle at her prompt action.

“Are you certain that you have not done this before, dear?”

“I’ve been tied before, yes, but never blindfolded or played at like this.” Bee confessed and heard her lover hum in reply.

“Now,” his hands rested on her thighs, giving them a slow languid massage as he spoke. “Let’s move on to another task, shall we?” Without warning, Crawford thrust his fingers inside of her, and Bee cried out in both shock and pleasure.

“C-Crawford.” The young woman quivered, feeling her muscles clamp down on the intruding appendages.

“No matter what I do, you will not comply to your need for release, do you understand?” Bee looked up at his voice. An orgasm denial? She had heard the other prostitutes gossip about it before, but she never had the chance of testing it with the men she had slept with. And then, she understood it all now, why Crawford wanted to worship her body: he was looking for her weak spots in order to use it against her. The cunning old boy!

She could only nod to affirm her consent. “And please try to restrain your voice, there are still servants occupying the floors downstairs, and have not yet departed for the night.”

Her grip on the furniture became stressed as Crawford moved his fingers into her core, prodding and poking, thrusting in and out. Bee bit on her bottom lip, and was doing her best to resist the tightening knot in her belly. However, she could not interrupt the desperate whimper that escaped her mouth once Crawford touched a particularly sweet spot.

“Oh? Have I found something worthwhile?” he teased her, pressing the same location over and over again until the young woman was working very hard not to raise her hips to meet his hand.

Crawford smirked, feeling the muscles of her cunt constricting his fingers. He pulled them out in time, and watched as Bee sagged into the lounge, flushed and soaked in her own perspiration. All of a sudden, a knock on the door could be heard. Crawford stood up from his position, and inquired who it was that disturbed him.

“Sir, Mr. Whitty is here with his reports.” Oliver, the butler, said on the other side of the threshold.

“Ah, good. Send him up.” He perceived a shuffle behind him, and he glanced back to see Bee had closed her legs and her bound hands were now settled on her lap. To her, he said, “Do not move from your seat, my dear. I will be with you again, shortly.”

“You’re not seriously considering this are you?” Bee said, her nerves jumped the moment she overheard heavy footfalls coming up the stairs. She could hear him chuckle again, before he kissed her in reassurance.

“If he does question what I do in my spare time, he will be eradicated quickly. Either way, you were created to be looked at, especially with these breasts.” To emphasize his point, Crawford tugged on a nipple before occupying the seat beside her. “And remember not to moan until I permit it.”

Bee breathed in deeply before prompting her fretfulness to settle down. She pushed aside her insecurities since she was accustomed to this sort of thing. But she could not help the uneasiness that shrouded her, as if she suddenly limited herself only to Crawford Starrick. An arm wound its way around her shoulder, pulling her even closer to her lover’s side. His right hand situated itself upon her reciprocal breast and continued to play with the weighty mound. Bee gritted her teeth each time Crawford fondled and teased her bosom. The door steadily creaked open, and another pair of feet shuffled inside the parlour room. She did her best to look alluring, like a proficient concubine entertaining her king.

The Templar agent announced his reports, although there was a slight tremor in his voice, and thus he had to hide his irregularity behind coughs and the clearing of his throat. 

“Is there something else you have to say, Mr. Whitty?” Crawford inquired the gentleman standing before him.

“N-No, Mr. Starrick, sir.”

“Then you are dismissed.”

When the telltale sound of the closed door reached her ears, Bee threw her head back until she was leaning against Crawford’s chest for support. She could simply cum right then and now with the way he was treating her nipples. And then, he eventually gave her permission to moan, and she did so wantonly.

“My, my, you’ve been quite obedient, dear. Shall I give you a reward for that?” His hand slithered down her stomach, and rubbed at her swollen clitoris.

“Yes, please! I need you, Crawford!” Bee cried out, and his fingers entered her again. This time, his actions were brutal and simply satiating. 

This orgasm was the biggest one she ever had, and she couldn’t think of anyone else who can mimic such intensity. She felt something wet pressing against her lips, and knew what Crawford wanted of her: she sucked on his digits hungrily and lapped at her own essence. All at once, she was lifted into his arms a second time, and had an inkling as to where they were heading next. She laughed at Crawford’s eagerness when she could hear him kick down a door and shut it behind him.

The Templar Grand Master laid down the young woman on his four-poster bed and carefully removed the bindings on her wrists. He kissed the reddened skin and apologized for marring her beauty. Bee smiled sublimely before pulling him down for a chaste kiss.

“Will you be as dominating as you were, here in the bedroom?” she asked.

“No,” Crawford replied and began to strip off his attire. “Here, we will each take control of one another.” He bent down to remove his confining trousers, finally giving his cock the freedom it deserved.

“Can I take off the blindfold yet?” Bee said ever so innocently. Crawford pushed her down onto the downy pillows, and stared at her flower-like mouth.

“No, my dear, not yet. I need you to open your legs for me.” She did as he asked, and he growled at the sight of her glistening cunt. She was still wet and needy for him.

“Crawford, please. I need you” She held out her arms out to him. It was at that moment, the blindfold had finally been cast aside, and Bee saw her lover in all his nudity, hovering over her like a preying hawk. She could feel a renewed fluttering in her belly.

“Bibianna.” He muttered, and then he sheathed himself into her warm and inviting core.

“Oh God!” Bee exclaimed, her legs shuddering from the sudden action. “You’re so big!”

She felt her entrance stretching to accommodate this newfound intrusion, and she had to bite down on her knuckle to suppress a series of lewd moans. Crawford was on his knees, wrapping her long legs around his waist. With this angle, she would be able to see their connection no matter how hard she tried to look away.

Bee caught his hips, and her own hips began a rolling motion that nearly unmanned him. Crawford cursed, feeling his cock spurt in a hopeless bid to relieve the torturous pressure in his balls.

“Ah, you little minx!” he gasped.

“I need you deeper in me,” she pleaded, and he was so grateful for her that he took her mouth in a lush, frantic kiss. They both rocked gently but relentlessly. Crawford drove into her, watching how her breasts bounced with every powerful thrust; he fisted the sheets as his need grew, and hearing her gratified mewling did not help this crazed influence he had placed himself in.

“Crawford!” Bee shouted when the head of his cock had found its mark inside of her. “That’s it! Please, don’t stop! F-Fuck!” she breathed and grasped onto his nape. His hair, which was always brushed back, was gradually falling to the side of his face.

Tears began to gather at the corner of her eyes as the man above her continued his onrush. Crawford paused in mid-thrust, and Bee groaned in protest. He resumed, increasing the strength and speed of his thrusts until he could feel himself swelling, ready to release his seed in her.

“Ooh, Crawford, I’m almost—” Bee let out a shriek as her second biggest orgasm overwhelmed her senses. 

Crawford gritted his teeth and could not hold back any longer. His body jerked in time to the hot, thick wash of his ejaculations. He slid out of her and fell onto his side, bringing the young woman along with him. She pushed her damp form against his own, and she carelessly placed a leg over his waist. The Rook girl cupped his face and kissed him with all the gratitude she had in her heart.

“Sleep now, my dear Bibianna. When dawn comes, we will figure out what to do next.” Crawford said and encased her in his arms. Bee hummed and nuzzled against the coarse hair on his chest. 

“And here I thought you’d give up halfway because of your age.”

A loud smack to the buttocks echoed throughout the room, and Bee laughed until she was silenced by a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I revised this at least five times before I was satisfied. And let me tell you how much I sinned so hard while writing this chapter! So please enjoy this chapter, and anticipate the aftermath~!
> 
> Bee's Evening Gown: http://36.media.tumblr.com/1aebd57361d185205b5bbb24694f556e/tumblr_muxuscmsj91qf46efo1_500.jpg
> 
> This is what Brandy Snaps look like (only back then, manual whipped cream was a lot...creamier): http://ichef.bbci.co.uk/food/ic/food_16x9_448/recipes/brandy_snaps_47363_16x9.jpg


	5. Afterward

There was a strange, and yet satisfying, sensation beginning from the outline of her thigh. It slowly crept its way up to her waist, and then it skipped over to caress her face and lips. Bee steadily opened her eyes to see that dawn had begun to break through the night skies. The echoing sounds of horse-drawn carts were prevalent, and the clatter of kitchenware down the stairs had made her eager to know what sort of dish did the Cook had in mind. She moved away from the feather-like touches to stretch her limbs, toes slightly curling, and then sighed out in gratification.

But she soon felt a warm and inviting form press itself against her side, pulling her closer, and fondling her right breast in the process. Bee turned to gaze into the penetrating eyes of Crawford Starrick; to think that numerous people trembled at the mention of his name. Every person in this world had a vulnerability, and the Grand Master was no exception. Here, in his bedroom, on the bed which they currently lay on, he appeared so...human. 

Now that natural light has seeped into the chamber, Bee was able to see the extravagant damask wallpapers encompassing them. A great hearth stood at the other end of the room, and a writing desk was situated underneath the wide paneled window. After reviewing her surroundings, the young woman turned to her lover and snuggled further into him, relishing the way Crawford was gradually measuring her appearance. She shifted her pose so that he could have a view of her legs and the curvature of her arse. He chuckled tiredly before he tilted his head to kiss her.

“Good morning, my dear.” Crawford muttered.

Bee hummed in response and eagerly returned the sweet gesture. “Good morning as well, Mr. Starrick.” 

She traced a line down his toned torso, following the faint trail of hair all the way down to his groin area, where she lightly grazed her nail along the length of his shaft. Surprised that he was on the way to becoming hard, Bee lowered her eyes for a moment to look at the wonderful tool that provided her with such intense pleasure, and then returned her attention to the older gentleman, as if to ask for his permission. Crawford nodded once, and Bee did not hesitate to begin stroking the appendage.

“Well, someone is definitely greedy for a bit of morning fun,” she teased, feeling his cock twitch in her grasp when she firmly held it by the base. All the while, Crawford’s hands were exploring her body, touching intimate places that needed to be touch, and wondering how a woman of her small stature could be such a diversion.

Crawford drew her in for one more kiss, and then gently pushed her to lie back against the large and downy pillows. There was something absolutely delicious about doing this libertine act at the start of the day, with sunlight pouring through the half-closed draperies, offering enough light for him to see the delighted expression in Bee’s sultry brown eyes. He pressed a hand to her soft belly, and moved downward to her quivering little cunt. With his forefinger and middle finger teasing her entrance, and his thumb slowly rubbing her clit in circles, Crawford observed the way she bit her bottom lip to hinder her moans.

“To be quite honest, it has been a while since I have engaged in any early morning sex.” Crawford said, probing at her entrance, waiting until she was acceptably moist before gently sliding his fingers in to the knuckle.

“W-Why is that?” Bee stuttered, and then writhed when she felt him stroking the same favorable spot over and over. She could hardly believe that Crawford still kept a straight face whilst pleasuring her in every possible way.

“Because most of my affairs are done in the guest room, and not in my own bedchamber. Therefore, I could not spare any time to do any of this.” He told her, and prodded harder, which sent the young woman squealing in delight.

“I am sure the girls who had been fortunate enough to be in your bed—Ah!—were quite the company, at the least.” Bee panted, raising her hips to meet the thrust of his fingers.

“Did I hear that right, my dear Bibianna? Are you envious about my previous liaisons?” Crawford paused to monitor a reaction from her. “Well, are you?”

It only took a few minutes before she started to beg for him. “Yes! Crawford, I am jealous, so please go on! I was so close!” The Grand Master smirked in triumph. He then removed his fingers from her, and beckoned her to sit upright.

Bee followed his orders, watching as the Grand Master began to lie back at the other end of the large bed, and she instantly knew what he wanted. She crawled up to him like a cat; she didn’t miss the chance to brush her nipples against the coarse hair of his legs before reaching his erection. The young woman smiled and gave the broad head of his cock an innocent lick. 

Crawford inhaled sharply. “Stop,” he said. “There will be another time for that, but at this very moment I want you to ride me.”

Such command nearly took her breath away. Bee had to grin at his serious expression, and went to climb the rest of the way. She tentatively got up to her knees just as Crawford grabbed at the base of his cock, and then she slowly impaled herself on his erect member.

“Ohh, Crawford!” she sighed as he filled her completely. Her hips lifted on their own accord and then lowered down, slowly and passionately, searching for that delicious spot where she liked it the most. She set a pace for herself, moaning a bit louder when she felt his hands slide up and play with her nipples.

“Yes, that’s it, my dear Bibianna.” Crawford praised in a dark whisper. He licked his dry lips and could feel the sweat forming on his forehead.

As she gained confidence from his citation, she moved faster, breathing hard from her exertions, with drops of sweat trickling down between her bouncing breasts. She soon seized his hands and guided them down to her hips. Crawford breathed heavily at the sight of his cock disappearing into Bee each time she came down on him. He quickly shot his hand through her dark locks and pulled her close to him, murmuring more words of encouragement into her mouth.

Finally, with her lips against the stubble of his jawline, she told him, “Make me come, Crawford! I need you, please!” In an instant, the Templar leader rearranged their positions and eventually pinned her to the bed. With their hands interlocked, Crawford continued where she left off, and reveled at the tightening grip she had on him as she grew closer to her release.

His thrusts were slow and deliberate, but they were enough to give her the stimulation she needed to feel the strain in her womb. With her cheeks flushed, and mouth parted open to reveal her pink tongue, Crawford considered himself fortunate to have found such a thing traversing the streets of London. And to think she avoided his scrutiny until now.

“Crawford,” Bee breathed out. 

Their gazes connected for a fraction of a second before she orgasmed around him. Crawford grunted and went on to pound his cock into her, hurrying to reach his own peak. She crashed her lips against his, hoping to subdue the moans that poured out of her mouth, and with a few quick thrusts, he achieved his own climax, satisfied to know that Bee felt his ejaculation as well. As he withdrew from her, the sun had now presented itself to the people of London; the noise in the streets grew in volume, and there was cluttering in the rooms downstairs.

Bee smiled and brushed back a bit of his hair. “You look so pleasing to look at, honestly. Who could not love this face of yours?” She followed the structure of his jawline before playfully tugging at the ends of his moustache, and curled them with her fingers.

“Unfortunately, the women I have been with only see what lies beyond my appearance.” Crawford said with a slight scoff, resting his head upon her collarbone. “They tend to seek a profitable marriage, and many middle and upper class families had sent numerous letters, asking me to have dinner with them as a chance to ogle at their only daughter, their niece, or any other poor female relative that comes from their family tree.”

Bee pursed her lips. She should have kindly asked her lover to move aside, but she found that having him on top of her was sort of delightful. “I do not want to make assumptions, and yet I cannot help but wonder: did you answer my advertisement just so you could escape another tedious invitation? After all, those articles were always meant for judies.” She felt a quick sweep of his breath against the skin of her breast when he scoffed again.

“Nonsense, my dear. Why would I do such a thing?”

“If you didn’t, how else would you have gotten me into your bed?”

Crawford lifted his head to look at her. She seemed so vulnerable all of a sudden as he stared her down, like a wolf cornering a rabbit. “I answered your advertisement because I was in need of a distraction; I had hoped for a more mature woman to satiate my desires, but all I see is a young, inexperienced girl who believes she could rile the interests of a dangerous gentleman.”

Bee raised an elegant brow. “Inexperienced, you say? I’ll have you know that people often compliment my charms: they tell me it was sufficient enough to charm snakes out of their woven baskets. And as a response to your last statement, I do recall a memory involving some lustful gentleman and his delight for having me all to himself.”

He had meant to insult her, but she took his words and easily turned them against him. She cupped his face with her slender, dainty hands before pulling him into a searing kiss. Crawford responded very quickly, but his young lover suddenly leaned away.

“Do you not want me this way every night, Crawford? Hungry and longing for your touch? I already feel empty without you.”

“You do not wish to go there, my dear. The desires I have are not meant for young girls such as you.” Crawford practically hissed the words.

“But isn’t that what you crave for, love? To break my innocence over and over again?” When she saw him falter for a split second, Bee knew she had succeded. However, before Crawford could come up with a response, a knock on the door disrupted their moment.

“Mr. Starrick, sir, the breakfast table has been prepared.” The butler, Oliver, said through the threshold.

Crawford got out of bed; he made quick glances over his shoulder, making sure that Bee was not some sort of illusion. “We will be down there shortly, Mr. Burns.” He then added, “Have Mrs. Fairfax prepare a bath for my guest, as well as a morning dress.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bee sat up in mild astonishment. “You keep feminine dresses in your home?”

“My former affairs took the idea that by leaving their belongings in my home, I would call them back to have them removed.” Crawford said, throwing open his wardrobe to plan out his attire for the day. He tossed a wine red housecoat to Bee, and she caught it with precision and a jovial smile.

“You still have not answered either of my questions,” she uttered whilst putting on the coat to finally conceal herself.

“Do you acquire an honest reply?”

“Of course. That way, I will know if you do not wish to see me ever again.” There was silence in the bedroom until Crawford stepped towards the young girl sitting on the edge of the bed. He grasped her by the chin and tilted her head up to look at him very carefully in the eyes.

“You are a strange enigma, Bibianna Oddey. You clearly fear me, and yet you express desire for my presence.” He stroke her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, tilting his head to the side as if he determined whether she was valuable to him or not.

“Such mysteries in life should be studied further, am I correct in that assumption?

The Rook girl stumbled on her words. She righted herself and replied, “Of course, sir.” Then, she let out a giggle that had Crawford straining himself not to take her again.

“Mr. Starrick,” a woman’s voice arose this time. “The bath is now ready for the guest.”

To Bee, Crawford gestured her to leave. She stood up, but boldly decided to lean up and kiss him on the cheek on her way out of the room, her arse slightly swaying as she went.  
After thoroughly washing off the evidence of their activites, Bee found herself garbed in a dark oriental-styled wrapper dress with pink floral embellishments down the bodice and along the hemline of the skirt. Mrs. Fairfax, was an unsophisticated old lady and a very good conversationalist as she brushed and fashioned her dark hair into a loose chignon. The guest of the house thanked her kindly before rushing down to join Crawford, who had picked an all-grey attire for his morning dress, at the breakfast room.

They talked lightly as they ate a delectable serving of fried bacon, eggs, sausage, toasted bread, and black pudding. The master of the house preferred to have tea with his meal, whereas his lively companion requested for a mug of hot coffee. Once the table had been efficiently cleared, Bee dashed off to the kitchens the minute she heard the familiar meow of a house cat: the orange tabby, named Captain, belonged to the juvenile kitchen maid, and was the sole protector of Mr. Starrick’s larder. The feline enthusiast could not resist plucking the pudgy cat from its perch on the table, holding it carefully in her arms while the animal slept on in content.

“Well, isn’t that a surprise?” said the Cook “Looks like Captain has found a new owner!”

Bee sat down on a nearby chair and placed the cat upon her lap, where it curled up into a tight ball and purred in contentment. “He is quite calm and peaceful, and I see that he is well-fed, judging by his soft fur and full belly.”

“Aye, he does a really good job chasin’ those rats out of the place, so he deserves a bit of spoilin’ every now and then.”

“As much as I love to take this one home with me, I already have a legion of my own cats to feed and support.” Bee said and scrunched up Captain’s fur.

“Bah! There’s never enough pets, lass. From what I heard, some baronet’s wife owns at least fourty-four Angoras, and that number doesn’t even include the litter of kittens born every year.”

As the talk lengthened between the Cook and Bee, Oliver appeared at the open doorway. “Miss Oddey, Mr. Starrick requests your attendance in his Study.” 

The young woman reluctantly returned the cat back to its original place and sauntered out to follow Oliver back up the stairs. The butler kindly opened the door for her as she stepped inside one of the more secluded rooms in the house. The Study was vast so it could accommodate the bookshelves that housed various books and manuscripts, as well as the numerous curios that Crawford might have purchased from auctions and the like.

The Grand Master himself was seated behind a large oak desk; he was going through the paperworks of that day, and had now worn the mask of a stoic businessman.

“You called, darling?” Bee said, walking towards the ominous gentleman in her attire. Crawford said nothing as he pushed a round silver platter towards her, which contained only one specific object: a gold key with a violet ribbon fastened to it. Bee blinked thrice and picked up the item from the dishware.

“That skeleton key which you are now holding is one of mine, and I only give it to the more trustworthy servants of the house.” Crawford explained. “I am giving you complete access to any room inside the house, except for the Study, lest I grant any allowance.”

Bee held the important item close to her breast. “Do you really trust me this much?”

“Partially. After all, you did happen to pilfer Miss Steele’s walking dress.”

“Ah, how clever of you.” She said, and walked around the worktable to properly kiss him on the cheek. “Perhaps I will see you again tomorrow night?” she whispered into his ear.

“I will look forward to it.” He turned his head to return her gesture, before ringing the bell for the butler once more.

With her evening ensemble wrapped up in a parcel, Bee mounted the private carriage and was dropped off at the Victoria Station, where Bertha was just pulling up to invite any Rooks from the platform. As she stepped inside, happy to see several of her colleagues in various stages of intoxication, Bee was about to inquire about her Bosses when she was suddenly shoved to the main train carriage. She quickly turned around to look at her perpetrator, but was elated to find it was Moirin, who was garbed in her typical Rook uniform and bowler hat.

“Moirin! You survived the night, I see!” Bee joked, but her joviality quickly dissipated when she saw the look of ire in her friend’s green eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Moirin practically growled.

“Tell you what?” The younger girl had to ask. Then, it suddenly came to her. “Oh, you mean the social engagement? Listen, I did it because you deserved it.”

“It is not about that!” Her friend’s voice nearly broke. “Why didn’t you tell me about you and Jacob?”

“What are you talking about?” It was Bee’s turn to be irked by all of her questions.

“You and Jacob fucked, that is what I’m talking about!” Moirin angrily accused her.

At that mention, Bee opened her mouth to say something, but she quickly closed it before letting out a strained laugh. “Moirin, that happened ages ago! You didn’t even know who Jacob was until he recruited us into the Rooks!”

“What?” Moirin said, blinking away premature tears.

Bee took on a straight face as she looked at her best friend. “Do you remember the story I told you back in March? The one where Penelope had me christen a new patron that was fresh from the countryside?”

Moirin looked at the floorboards, and then realization dawned on her. “That was Jacob?”

“Yes!” Bee exclaimed. “I described it to you in vivid detail, but you weren’t listening!” The Irish lass looked like a fish that was suddenly plucked from the water. She then came up and embraced Bee, muttering her apologies into the smaller woman’s dark hair.

“Now that we have set that aside, tell me what had happened between you and the Boss!”

Moirin quickly took on various shades of red as she recalled what occurred last night. “Well, we did kiss.” She hesitated for a moment, which only encouraged Bee to nudge her in the ribs. “And we...had a good lay.”

“You should mentioned fuck earlier! Good gracious, Moirin!” Bee laughed. “In any case, you now have the apartment all to yourself for several days.”

“And what about you then? Did your gentleman appreciate your sudden carnality?”

Moirin watched as Bee fished out a gold key from her pockets. “I gained his trust after a good fuck last night, and now he wishes to see me whenever I am available.”

“Well! We truly feel so fortunate to have found what we wanted!”

“We could say that our wishes have been fulfilled by some perverted fairy godmother.” Bee said, putting aside her parcel to re-enter the Rooks’ personal carriage. She waved to the barkeeper, requesting for her glass of champagne and a beer for Moirin.

“True.” Moirin agreed. “And about those paintings I’ve told you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be enjoying them as well,” her friend teased. “I know I will, once I decorate my bedroom walls with them.”

Bee picked up her flute of champagne just as Moirin lifted her pint of beer. They gave a toast to thank whatever entity that guided them on their right paths, and soon discussed about their wanton lovemaking, regardless of the presence of their friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a great while but I've finally got it~!


	6. Epilogue

“Hold still!” Moirin giggled as she added a broad arch to the painting. She sat upon her wooden stool, garbed in nothing but her smock. Jacob smirked and reclined further into the emerald green couch: he was equally naked as her, but his iconic top hat covered his groin area, leaving much to the imagination.

“Do you know how absolutely amazing you look, love?” Jacob said, eyeing the curve of his lover’s breast as it peeked out behind the only article of clothing she wore. He quickly got up from the furniture, tossing his hat to the side, and then walked over to lean against the canvas.

“Jacob, I cannot finish this painting if you keep moving around like that!” Moirin said, but her gaze drifted down to his steadily growing erection.

“Come on now, Moirin. You know every angle of my body, from my handsome jawline all the way down to my arse.” Jacob joked, which earned him a playful snort.

With quick precision, the Irish beauty tickled his left nipple with the dry bristles of her brush and tried to do the same with the other one. But her Boss caught her by the wrist and dragged her out of her artistic perch. The Rook leader’s rich laughter intermingled with that of Moirin’s saccharine giggles as they playfully frolicked in the painting room. An orange tabby cat casually ambled into the area, ignoring the two lovers’ naked battle, and went to topple the empty bottles of beer in the corner.

“For God’s sake, Oscar! Must you always push things over when I have my back turned on you?!”

Bee walked into painting room dressed in a pretty blue day dress. She was in the process of putting on the white leather kid gloves when she heard the noise. Much like her pet cat, she ignored the couple on the couch and went to pick up the irksome feline, who began to paw at the buttons on her attire.

“Well, I’ll be gone for two weeks, so please be sure to feed the cats on time.” Bee told them as Oscar continued to tap the accessory.

“Of course, love. We’ll take care of your demon spawn.” Jacob said with a wink.

Moirin abruptly slapped his Rook tattoo in admonishment, eliciting a yelp from the man. “Do be careful with your gentleman, Mister...what was his name again?”

“Christopher Steward.” Bee lied, but she hid it so well underneath her natural confidence. She put Oscar by the window sill and went to inspect the unfinished artwork on the stand. “Oh my, Moirin! I remember Jacob was blushing everywhere during our first time.”

“Did you really?” the artist looked over to their Boss, who smirked towards Bee.

“And I remember he likes a bit of dominance in his partner.” The younger woman winked at her friend before she believed it was time to leave them be. “I’ll be off now my lovelies! And the building should still be standing by the time I return.”

“We won’t promise you anything!” Jacob called out to her, and once the door had been slammed shut, he leaned over to untie the strings that held up Moirin’s smock.

Now that her breasts were revealed, the Rook leader hungrily eyed his blushing lover and went to assault her with a barrage of kisses. Moirin eagerly countered them with her own, until she felt his hands parting her folds to test how ready she was for him. She spread her legs further, allowing him to slide his fingers into her entrance and began to probe her inner muscles.

“Mm! Oh, Jacob!” Moirin hummed and stroke his beard, making him stare into her eyes.

“Do you like that, love?” he inquired.

“Yes! Oh, yes! Please, give me more!”

“You’re so greedy, I love it.” 

When he kept on prodding a familiar spot, Moirin quickly came undone and wantonly let out a loud moan. She took her time regaining her energy before she shoved Jacob to a sitting position on the couch; she then straddled his hips and used her wetness to lubricate his aching cock, moving her cunt along his length until he was hissing with need.

“Bloody hell, Moirin!” Jacob exclaimed, pushing his hips upwards in hopes that his cock would be able to enter her as she gyrated. Moirin smirked; she got up on her feet, much to Jacob’s confusion, and then walked over to pose at the doorway.

“Come on, Jacob,” she purred. “I’m all yours for the next two weeks.”

“And I will revel in it, love.” Jacob practically growled and chased after his lass into the bedroom.

 

Upon her arrival to the townhouse, Bee was grateful for Oliver’s punctuality and his swift initiative to take her luggage up the stairs. She was likewise told that the master was in a meeting with his associates (they generally meet twice a day; thrice if it was important) and would call on her as soon as he is available. The woman simply nodded in a carefree way before guiding herself to the room where it all started. As she ran her gloved hand along the elaborately decorated settee, her eyes widened for an instant at the sight of the ties that supposedly bounded her hands that night, neatly coiled and in plain sight for her.

Before long, Mrs. Fairfax came into the parlour with tea and a serving of custard patties. The two talked for a while, about the current standing of the Parliament, as well as the ongoing reports regarding gang violence all over their beloved city. If only the poor old woman knew who Bee really was, then perhaps she wouldn’t be having this conversation with her in the first place.

“I must say, Miss Oddey, for a woman of your...profession, you seem rather schooled,” said Mrs. Fairfax.

Bee hardly contained her proud smile. “Crawford had mentioned it as well, Mrs. Fairfax. But, I will tell you this: it is better to be ambitious, than not at all.”

Soon enough, Oliver strode in to tell her that the Templar meeting has nearly concluded. Bee thanked him once more and then stood up, fixing any creases that might have formed on her dress. She then walked down the carpeted corridor, pretending to be one of those innocent young girls who were to be presented to the Queen, with her chin held high and her shoulders rolled back. The doors to the Study opened; her footsteps faltered a little when two old gentlemen strolled out. 

One was dressed flamboyantly in a military dress uniform; he stopped to step aside and courteously greet her with a nod, to which she responded with her own. The second one was too familiar, as if she had seen him before during her walks in the City of London. Perhaps he might have recognized her, for he gave her that expression of surprise all men would make the moment they see ‘the delightful Miss Oddey’ for a second or third time. However, what really interrupted her stride were the voices of two women in the Study: they sounded hushed yet irritated. One of them held an elegant malice, whereas the other was slightly cool and refined.

Then, with a simple command, Crawford dismissed them both. The owner of the refined voice let out a huff and turned with a swish of her magenta skirts, but she almost paused when she saw Bee standing there in the middle of the corridor. Her companion, a snooty looking lady wearing the Templar insignia on her left arm, looked down at her in obvious disgust and dislike. They stared at her considerably as they walked past her, measuring her by appearance and the countenance she carried.

Eventually, Bee regained her self-confidence and looked away from the female Templars. She nodded towards Oliver, and the butler seemed to know what would happen thereafter. He stepped out and went to close the doors, and within those few seconds, the Rook girl glanced over her shoulder, smirking at the ruffled and dazed looks on the Templars’ faces.

Crawford leaned further into his chair and momentarily looked up from his papers to gaze at his much wanted guest. But his eyes soon landed on the attire she had chosen for today.

“And whose wardrobe did you embezzle this time?” he said, but there was an underlying tone of a tease in his voice.  
Bee laughed while she casually approached her lover. “I’ll have you know that I bought this with my own money.”

“That would explain the austere material.”

“Oh, hush you,” the young woman leaned forward and tugged at the end of his moustache. “I hope I am not overstepping my boundaries with this request, Crawford.”

“I do not mind, dear. But I am fairly concerned with this bet you’ve made with those scoundrels in Whitechapel.” Crawford got up from his chair to remove his heavy coat. Bee waved him off; she had dealt with much more dangerous people in her past life.

“It is only a mere fourteen days, love. It is not like I will exhaust your larder, or use your townhouse for my nightly business,” she jested, her brown eyes focusing on the details of his black waistcoat. “Moreover, I happen to be very skillful when it comes to household chores and other things, so you need not worry if ever you leave for your offices.”

Crawford finally rounded the desk and closed the gap between him and his alluring siren. He stared at her beautiful, full lips before claiming them. Bee smiled into the tender kiss; her hands quickly planting themselves against his chest.

“Do you want me now, Mr. Starrick?” Bee grinned in that cat-like way he adored from the minute he made the decision to have her in his company.

“Soon, my dear Bibianna.” Crawford breathed, as if he nearly drowned from that kiss. “For now, let us discuss certain matters.”

“Such as?”

“Your choice of fashion and its association with your habitual thievery.” Bee laughed with pure joviality at his serious tone.

“If you wanted to spoil me rotten, you could have simply said so, Crawford.”

And with that, she stood on her toes and pulled Crawford down for a more searing kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh goodness gracious~!
> 
> Finally ended the Date Fic on a hot March day! Thank you for leaving awesome kudos and hits, I really appreciate it, and if so ever you need another adventure with Bee Oddey and Moirin Ladyman, please do not hesitate to leave requests!


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